Bikes, Beaches and Afternoon Waffles

05 | The Happy Sweater

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SONG FOR THE CHAPTER

❝ Holoscene ❞ by Bon Iver

(Look for the "♡" symbol within the paragraphs and then play the song for the preferred start time)

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15 hours, 37 minutes and 24 seconds...

It's been nearly an entire day since I've seen Casper Collins. I would think that for the average person it's normal to miss someone after being away from them, but the mere thought of him is driving me crazy. Every time I close my eyes, I hear his laughter and guitar playing. Casper has gotten under my skin and wormed his way into my cold, black heart. Before I met him, I never knew what it was like to be able to look at someone and want to smile for no reason.

I'm standing by my bedroom windowsill, my phone clutched in one hand and the piece of sketchbook paper in the other. I've tried dialing Casper's number about 3 times now, all of which I have nervously hung up before the phone call went through. I don't even know what I would say to him.

How could I possibly think of something to say when I'm not supposed to be calling him in the first place? I told him that I wouldn't, now I'm debating whether or not I want to make a fool out of myself. I don't want him thinking that I want to be friends, but I'm skeptical of how long I can maintain that deceitful performance.

Actually, come to think of it, I once carried out a very good lie. When I was 8 years old, I was living with this foster family that had 3 other children in the household. One of them was this little boy named Billy Barnes. He used to sneak into my room at night and ask me to tell scary stories before bedtime.

I remember one night, in particular, I had packed my bags and decided to run away. I made it down to the Burger King across the street before I started crying and went back to the house. The next morning, Billy asked why I disappeared. I was afraid Billy would tell our foster parents and the police would send me to juvenile detention. Hence why I lied about the whole thing and told him that I had been abducted by aliens. To this day, Billy still doesn't know.

I chuckle to myself and shake my head. The bittersweet memory gives me hope I can pull off this ridiculous charade for a little longer. However, that begs the question: How do I casually initiate a conversation with someone I have a crush on? I glance down at my phone; the number on the screen stares back at me. I still can't bring myself to complete the call. My social awkwardness is sabotaging my attempt to bite the bullet and just fucking talk to him.

I groan loudly and stomp over to the mirror hanging above my dresser. Leaning my palms against the counter, I closely stare at my own reflection, "You're such a coward," I scold myself, "It's just a damn phone call..."

I back away from the dresser and pause for a moment. Tilting my head to the side, I look at myself from a different perspective. I wouldn't call myself ugly, but I wouldn't call myself beautiful either. I'm somewhere uncomfortably wedged between, like a cute moth that's not quite a butterfly but also isn't quite a caterpillar. At least I'm not completely a lost cause.

"Pfft," I remark, "This is no big deal... I got this."

Maybe I can make this work. I probably just need a little practice talking to boys. I clear my throat and straighten my posture. Once making eye contact with my reflection, I pretend like I'm on the phone with him.